Corsair
by Alex DeLyan
Summary: I have stared down the barrels of many guns, faced death on countless occasions before today. I have even killed men for the jingle of coin. But I have never encountered a creature as beautiful as she was ruthless and who could send sloop and schooner to their destruction in the blink of an eye. I am Seth O'Hara and this is my story...
1. Tracking Annie

Corsair

Tracking Annie

February 9th, 1716, Nassau, The Bahamas

I strolled through the busy streets of the markets, eyes peeled for the name of this tavern he'd pointed me to. _The Flaming Froth_, as I remembered it. Jack was always so uninformative on details. My name is Seth. Seth O'Hara, if you want the full name. I'd received a letter from John 'Calico Jack' Rackham a few weeks back. Some sort of missive urging me to come out to the Bahamas, even after I told him I'd never go back there, not after what happened last time.

I walked past the flamboyantly dressed whores, something I had spent years trying to perfect. The lure of them was just too good to resist in the old days. But now, I don't know whether it was me or them, but they just lost their appeal. And I had to concentrate on finding this damned alehouse he declared the rendezvous point.

Lots of strange folk and figures lurking around Nassau these days apparently. Which wasn't much of an improvement on the original bunch of characters, but it still made me wary. At last! I'd found the bugger, _The Flaming Froth_ public house, an ominous emblem of a tankard on fire hung above its doors.

The vibrant revelry emanating from that tavern could be heard a mile away. I pushed open the wooden door, to reveal the sinful delights of Nassau. Plump and fleshy prostitutes stood in corners waiting for their next paying customer, the slim and shapely ones draped over the inebriated clientele of The Flaming Froth. I scanned the room and I saw him in the corner, drinking away his pain. I could tell what ailed him already. A broken heart. Lovesickness.

Steadily avoiding the undesirables who frequented the boozing ken, I made my way over to him. _Look at him, all alone, miserable and depressed_ I thought. He had not considered the pain I still felt. He heartache.

"Oi, Rackham." I said, my tone firm. That wasn't enough to wake him up. I brought a cautious hand over his head, grabbed his greasy hair and pulled his head up from the table. Then, with no regret whatsoever, I dropped it. His head crashed to the table with a thud. That woke him up. He was startled, alerted to nothing he need worry about... yet.

After a few winces and sobs he was finally ready to talk.

"What's all this about, eh John? So dastardly and covert that yer couldn't even put in a letter?" I asked, quite furious at what he wasn't telling me, though I was pretty sure of what troubled him.

"She's gone, Seffy. She's gone!" He cried. I was spot on. I knew what he had been suffering from ever since I saw him when I entered this house of corruption.

"This wouldn't happen to be the latest love of your life, would it?" I queried knowing full well it was.

"Annie! It's Annie! She's gone, she's left me!" He sobbed.

"I remember her. We grew up together. I'm sure she'll be back soon" I said, trying to sound caring, even though I felt the complete opposite.

"For God's sake man, will you stop your whimpering!?" I snapped, my Irish accent thick with anger.

I gave myself a moment to cool off. Then returned to the perfunctory task of comforting Rackham.

"There, there Johnny." I said, clasping an arm round him and wishing I was back home.

Some time after, he sobered up and finally got to the business at hand. "You see, the thing is, Seffy, that I need someone to find her for me." Rackham said, making sense at last. Not that I was prepared to travel half way across the world for a woman who didn't even want to be with a man like Jack Rackham in the first place.

"Now look, John, I don't want to be getting embroiled in any disputes the two of you have." I said, making it clear of where I stood in the entire situation. Then he said the magic words.

"I'll pay." Still some of the buccaneer remained in me and I couldn't help but inquire.

"How much?" I asked.

"Forty guineas." He said, quizzing me to see what I'd take which was a lot more than that.

"Forget it." I remarked, stamping off to exit the alehouse.

"Fifty?" He begged, a desperate look in his eyes.

"That's all she's worth to you?" I asked, bartering more out of him.

"Sixty. I've nary a coin to my name after you've got your payment though." He cried, begging me to take the lower offer in his mind.

"Done. You have yourself a deal." I said. "But of course, I'll need an idea of where she's gone." I added.

I sat back down at the table and he began to fill me in on all of their favorite destinations. We pored over maps and plotted routes out into the oceans and seas.

"She did enjoy Kingston. She may have gone there. Or... Havana?" Rackham went on and on, making a list of all the places they'd been together. All the pirate havens they had inhabited. By the end of the hour, I was making tracks back to the harbour. Where my ship was moored. She hardly saw any action these days. I had to pay a band of deckhands just to slog it out to the West Indies. After the incident that put me off the life of piracy, well, The Sapphire was almost destroyed, but now she rode again and in search of the woman whom I'd once been very close with: Anne Bonny.

We set off. I decided to search for her in Jamaica. Kingston, in fact where she and Rackham had once raided merchants and privateers. I took note of how cheap he was paying me to find her, for a woman like her was surely worth millions more.

We sailed through calm winds, the sea content which is what we'd need it to be if we were to reach Kingston in one piece. I was glad Rackham stayed back in Nassau, though he'd later come to regret leaving Anne and me alone together. He did try and make a break for the ship but I reassured him she'd be safe with me and when he was fully sober he'd kick himself for not trying harder to resist the call of the drink and should've insisted on coming with me if he truly wanted to ensure she would remain his alone.

I looked out toward the horizon and saw a ship in the distance.


	2. Moment Of Love

Corsair

Moment Of Love

February 11th, 1716

Carribean Sea

She looked like a man-of-war to me, and if her crew turned hostile on me, we'd stand no chance of survival. The Sapphire was a wee little sloop, and I haven't told you how I came into possession of such a little beauty, have I? Well, it was 1712, and I grafted her from under the nose of a sugar merchant. Me and some beginner, Eddie, as I liked to call him. We only came into contact on that one occasion, but I heard he was something of a big shot these days. Back then he told me he was a 'privateer' wanting to make a life for himself. His wife's pa was a snob or something like that. Wanted to prove him wrong, so he said. Not so teetotal then or now, I thought.

But I had bigger problems to worry about. A Jolly Roger was flying on the masts. Whether or not it was for us, I'd no idea. The skull and crossbones on a red background. Dear God No! The man-of-war began to rotate, facing us side on. BOOM! A whirlwind of cannonballs lurched in our direction. I closed my eyes and waited for The Sapphire to crumble to the depths of the ocean.

Then, from the mercy of God, a schooner spiralled into the course of the cannonballs, saving us from the fate which would surely see us submerged to the bottom of the sea. Of course, I felt some guilt for the poor souls aboard that vessel, who took the bullet for us. I saw their own crew stumble from the deck of the ship and fall into the unforgiving waters. Merchants, from the look of them. I had an idea, and swung in for the kill, ready to plunder its booty. Obviously, our enemy would have the same plan, so it was a race against that man-of-war.

Taking the helm with full strength I brought her forward, a few hundred meters or so away, was the merchant fleets cargo. "Loot her! Loot her!" I shouted down to the sailors, who were mere boys without any piracy experience, and they hadn't joined this expedition to fight off hordes of buccaneers and steal priceless goods from defenseless traders. But a good number of them were ready for glory and dived onto the ship with vine-like ropes. Others put down planks to cross onto the ship. And there were those who just weren't cut out for a life of notoriety and jumped into the freshwater aqua.

I, leaving the helmsman and quartermaster to keep the ship good shape, leapt onto the deck where another boom of cannon fire shook the schooner. _Randy's Folly_ she was called, and I had no idea who this Randy was but it certainly was folly to send his ship out into the Carribean Sea without fortifications. Heading down into the hold I saw some of the lads already picking the schooner clean of all its valuables and they were most definitely **_valuables_**. The more keen ones were wearing the jewelry to make space for the crates onboard the Sapphire. I myself got stuck in, pillaging the wooden boxes and threw the heavy ones to the muscle head, Toby. He had more abdominal muscles than I had ate hot dinners. And I was thankful for it.

Groaning I pushed one into his hands, and he passed it onto the line of seamen loading it onto The Sapphire. Wary of the opposition approaching, I decided that was all our little sloop could take and made a not-so-clean getaway as I turned to face a musket being brandished at my forehead. It was her. Anne Bonny. We both gasped, in complete awe of each other. She, that I had survived our last encounter and I at her beauty. Toby made to cave her head in, but I gestured to him to halt. She returned the favour to a sneaky crewman about to knock me unconscious.

"Seth." She got the first word in. Staring into my eyes. For a moment, we forgot everything around us, all the carnage being wrought upon our respective ships. Blissfully unaware of the strife our crew was causing above our heads on the decks of Randy's Folly. For a moment, we were in love.

Then, our pause came to a climax and we had to stop the rest of the crews. She moved up to the deck like a bolt of light and addressed her pirate crewmen. "Oi! You lot!" She boomed, the very oceans seemingly quivering at her voice. "Stop! Me and this here's ship cap'n are old and dear friends. One more dead body on this deck and yous'll all be for a little trip off the plank!" Her threatening aggression ringing in the ears of man and beast alike.

The men on deck ceased their fighting and I came into a conversation with Anne. We sat on the quarterdeck of Randy's Folly and talked about our pasts. I couldn't help but begin the dialogue with Rackham. "Why did you leave him?" I queried, sipping a tankard of ale.

"Why are you here?" She retorted, ignoring my question and striking a personal sensitivity within me.

"I'm upset you would even assume me dead." I rejoined, a tinge of aggression in my voice.

"We saw that brig get blown to smithereens, what was I supposed to think?" She said blankly, staring into her own tankard and it's emptiness. "I left him, because I discovered his 'secrets'." She continued, answering my earlier question and facing me now. _What secrets? _I thought, pondering what he could be keeping from her.

As though reading my mind, she said: "I found out... He knew about you. Knew you were alive and he didn't tell me." Her voice breaking and she started choking up at the end of that sentence.

"That it?" I asked, flattered that she would leave her own 'husband' over a matter widely regarding me.

"Not just that!" She barked, probably to shake off the tears in her eyes with the building, growing anger within her. "He, he got lazy, found other women to satisfy him, drank CONSTANTLY, and took me for granted." She went on, tearing up again. _Drank constantly? _She loved to drink herself. But maybe she had changed over the past two years.

She looked like she had. She no longer donned her trusty tricorne, her flowing flaming hair had shortened down to her upper chest and her face in general looked like it had altered or shifted somehow. We finally got off the topic and discussed other subjects. Mainly about how I had settled back into life in the countryside and if I had seen the rest of our childhood gang, which I had. But, the conversation took a turn for the deep again and I asked her about coming aboard with me. Not to trick her to going back into the arms of Rackham, that was the last thing I wanted.

Speaking of the cheeky drunkard, I thought it about time to let slip about my encounter with him. "He asked me to bring yer back to him, yer know?" I said pretty sure she would know who I was referring to. Expecting her to be surprised, I was shocked when she took it like a casual everyday task. After swigging her renewed flask of ale, she asked:

"How much?"

"Sixty guineas." I said, waiting for her to explode with anger. Which, no doubt about it, she did.

"SIXTY GUINEAS!?" She yelled, spluttering ale everywhere as she spat out her contempt. She seemed to be overflowing with hatred.

"My thoughts exactly." I said, looking out to see the name of the man-of-war. _Oh no_. I thought, seeing the name scrawled across the starboard side of the ship. _The Revenge._ Rackham's ship. I knew what was coming next. In the space of a few seconds, she had hopped aboard The Sapphire and took aim with the swivel cannons. Focusing it on The Revenge, she fired, a hole blasted in the starboard of the man-of-war.

Shouting orders to her men who were mingling with my crew on the deck of The Sapphire, she demanded they sink The Revenge. They responded with cries of agreement and they obeyed her at once. They manned the cannons and after five minutes, The Revenge split in two and slipped to the bottom of the ocean.

"What now then?" I asked, when she returned to the quarterdeck of Randy's Folly.

"Well, I know you were a pirate but a bit of time on Irish soil must've restored your gentlemanly principles." She said, inviting her and Rackham's crew aboard my own ship. We spent the rest of the day plundering Randy's Folly and after the hard days work was concluded, well, Anne and I had, shall we say, rekindled?


	3. Valentine's Day

Corsair

Valentine's Day

14th February, 1716

Kingston, Jamaica

I woke early on the day of romance, to find we had docked in Kingston. Dressing into my robes, I looked down, a smile materialising on Her face as she slept. The Sapphire wasn't exactly in good shape, so that meant shelling out for upgrades. Smoke streamed from the lively goings-on of the markets. Farmers were selling produce, women sold jewellry, and there were merchants bargaining and haggling with other traders. Butchers displaying their fresh meat in window shops. _Mmm_, I thought, inhaling the odours of the market.

I walked up to a florists and bought a bouquet for Anne. It was becoming more and more popular in the Americas and Britain, and they did a lot more than a bunch of lavender to convey their love for each other back home in Ireland. My hometown of Roscommon was particularly notorious for overexposing themselves after a flagon of Guiness. Thankfully, I'd never indulged in the apparent liberation public indecency yielded. Anne however, she practically lived a life of nudity. Well, in the old days at least, back in the taverns and boozing kens of Ireland, when we all used to go on the wildest of adventures, before the piracy days, when I made regular trips to Kinsale.

Nowadays, well, I had been dragged back onto the high seas to run an errand for Calico Jack. I didn't understand why he withheld information regarding me from Anne. I didn't know what we would do after we figured out how to deal with Rackham. Maybe we spent a life on the oceans, pillaging and plundering from the unfortunate merchants who crossed paths with us, instilling fear in the hearts of every man and woman who gazed upon our Jolly Roger. Maybe that wasn't to be. Maybe we went our separate ways and lived completely opposite lives.

Returning to our sloop, I gave a salute to the rest of the crew who were setting up for our travel back to Nassau in the next few days. If I was to return to the life of piracy, I'd need a steady crew. A quartermaster. I had a lad in mind for that position. Decent fella, hardworking and qualified for the job. His name was Joe, a man younger than myself by around five or six years. Experienced too, he said, having worked on merchant brigs and sloops in his late teens'.

By now, Anne had woken and I saw her adjusting her flaming auburn hair in a handmirror. She had dressed into her nightgown as well, though she'd have to put on some of her finest regalia for what I had planned for us. Bundling the flowers into a vase, I stroked the refined Portugese Marble mantelpiece, feeling its smooth surface as I made the bouquet look presentable."So, what else have you planned?" She beamed, a smirk appearing on her face that hid almost uncontainable excitement

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about." I teased her, swooping down to her mouth and stealing a kiss off her ruby lips.

"You've surely not forgotten what day it is." She queried, the smile fading into a questioning look and she turned in the chair to face me.

"I've got us a place in a lovely little tavern just a matter of minutes away." I said plainly, waiting for her face to light up and hoping she hadn't acquired a taste for the finer things in life whilst away in The Bahamas. No, it seemed she hadn't grown accustomed to a manner in which I could not guarantee to keep her. Sure, The Sapphire was elegant and some would say ornate. But I knew that could easily be stolen from us now we were back on the piracy scene. Easier so to plunder a beat and battered sloop like The Sapphire. Which is why I'd fork out for some armoured parts while here in Jamaica. There was an arms dealer lurking about the docks, offering his wares to potential customers.

Returning to the streets if Kingston, I approached him and requested his services.

"So you deal in armaments for ships?" I asked him, tone low.

"I prefer to call it 'naval defense system'" He said, flamboyantly presenting his items displayed in a cart.

"I need them to enhance my sloop." I told him, indicating The Sapphire and it's state of disrepair. After bartering and haggling like the merchants and traders I'd saw earlier in the markets, I finally sealed a deal at 5 shillings for bowsprit replacements, rudder enhancement, and fresh sails. I also took it upon myself to outfit The Sapphire with several cannons on both the starboard and portside. When the work was done, she looked a pretty picture once again and a lick of paint would have me the proudest Irishman in the West Indies.

Meanwhile, Me and Anne went off for our romantic night of inebriated debauchery and revelry. I'd hardly given Rackham or his sunken wreck of a schooner a thought since the day I'd reunited with Anne.

The barstaff were quite busy with the rowdy clientele of Andrea's Ale starting tavern brawls and other good traditional entertainment of a public house. Anne and I were quite happy to sit and observe their melee skills at drunken work. The barmaid slammed down two flagons of ale on our table, glaring at us, as though we were at fault for her lowly standing in life somehow.

"I 'taught yer said this was a nice place." Anne slurred her part drunk words, her Irish accent sticking out like a sore thumb. She picked up the ale and downed it like a true pirate. St Valentine would have been proud his life's work was now being used as an excuse for such sinful pleasures. But then, most of us were pirates, so sinning was all we'd known for the most part of our lives or we had dabbled in sin too far to be absolved.

Deep thoughts aside, I participated in the revelry even more, for I have to admit, I was being shy for me that night and I didn't want to feel introverted and awkward. I wanted to feel naturally me and loud. So, I took my flagon and poured its contents down my throat without a second thought. Anne was quite happy to watch the brawls unfold before her, and I joined in too. Adjusting my chair to face the two drunken louts, I began to realise why they were arguing. As many things did, it revolved around money. In the course of a few minutes though, it had turned into a Nassau-styled bar fight. One man got involved, his friends there to fight off his opponents friend and, in the drunken haze everyone was fighting anyone. A burly old codger clenched his fist and swung in to get a good punch on my face.

I dodged a wrinkly old bullet and kicked him in the arse before he had a chance to get up. Anne was smashing a drunkards' face against the table, probably for daring to assault her. She had a fierce temper and was even more of a hothead as a child. You know she once stabbed a maid? Before I could react to my own rude attack on an elderly man, another slob was brandishing plump fists and, as he went in for the kill, I had ducked beneath his waist to sweep him off his feet and send him staggering backwards.

"I think that's enough." I shouted over to Anne, who was still hammering the poor fool's head onto the mahogany table. But, this was Kingston, not Nassau. So a Nassau-styled tavern brawl is only complete with a Nassau-styled lawlessness. Hordes of guards burst down the doors and started screaming, yelling at the intoxicated rabble before them. "Let's go." I whispered to Anne, taking her hand as she stepped over a half-living body and we made our escape via the rear exit. Guardsmen were now wrestling the customers of Andrea's Ale to the ground in an attempt to incarcerate them for drunken disorderliness.

I couldn't help but let out a snigger as we got off with nary a bruise on us while the rest of them were facing a night in the cells or severe injuries. Surreptitiously sneaking around the corner of Andrea's Ale, we made for the harbour, the lanterns of The Sapphire shining brightly. And that was how we spent Valentine's Day.


	4. Jack In The Box

Corsair

Jack In The Box

February 16th, 1716

Nassau, The Bahamas

Since our fiasco of attempting to engage in a quiet meal in a reputedly peaceful alehouse, we had decided to return to Nassau, our plan being to give Anne to Rackham, receive the payment and then have my crew scattered throughout Nassau to rescue her from the stench of Rackham's clutches.

We dropped anchor in the harbour and left the deckhands to tend to The Sapphire. Walking down the gangplank with Anne, now hands bound, and Joe, I noticed an odd crate sitting on the jetty, a wooden crate. I thought nothing of it and we walked on. That would prove a fatal error. We got nearer and nearer. Until He sprang from it, brandishing a musket and firing it at me. I ducked out of the way of the first bullet, pulling Anne close to me and throwing a wheel-lock over to Joe, aiming my own Flintlock at the wild-eyed buccaneer trying to take back a prize he could now never have.

I fired, missing Rackham but shattering the lid of the crate. That'd force him out of it. And it did. He jumped out of the box, and sprinted back to his lair of corruption. I followed, giving chase and pursuing him through the busy streets of Nassau. He made crafty moves, but I managed to keep up with his pace and soon, he reached a dead end. A rooftop overlooking the shops and streets of Nassau.

I faced him and, after we both let out a heavy sigh, began to wrestle each other to the ground. He lunged forward and threw himself at me. I drew my pistol and aimed it at his forehead. His skull collided with the barrel and he staggered back onto the concrete ground of the roof, yelping in agony. Walking over slowly, I started to pistol-whip him across the face until he passed out. Searching his pockets, I found two hundred guineas stashed in his wallet, clearly deceiving me when he offered such a cheap amount for Anne.

I took the money and his unconscious body. His body slung over my eyebrows obviously raised a few eyebrows but I didn't care. I was on my way to dispose of him. Not by letting him drown in the ocean, but by leaving him to wake up surrounded by scurvy-ridden French sailors. That should give off the desired effect of having him confused and most of all, angry.

Boarding The Sapphire, I grinned at the crewmen scrubbing the deck and dropped the purse of 200 Guineas into the hands of Joe, for depositing inside the safe. That type of money would have to be saved for a rainy day. Laying over in Nassau for the next couple weeks, we were free from what tiny influence Rackham had on the island. A few sailors was all it consisted of anyway, but it felt like normal again, drinking in every tavern in Nassau, not a fraction of a care in the world. Although we didn't meet the famous names who we sailed with years ago, in the founding days of Nassau, we enjoyed their legacy of taverns overflowing with mead and ale.

Fifteen days in Nassau took its toll and we decided to make our way onto Great Inagua, where a few of the famous faces we had hoped to meet in Nassau were apparently staying. Edward Thatch, James Kidd, Ben Hornigold and Charles Vane, just some of the names we had sailed with in the early 1710's. The same names who had witnessed my apparent 'death' in 1714. I heard tell that 'privateer' fella was also in their company these days. Maybe we'd get to know each other a little bit better, find out if he still had a wife to go back to.


	5. You Look Like You've Seen A Ghost

Corsair

You Look Like You've Seen A Ghost

23rd February, 1716

Great Inagua

"Bloody Hell!" Thatch exclaimed, looking thoroughly gobsmacked at me. The rest of them turned to face me, curious of what could've had Edward so perplexed. Ben and Charles matching their companions stunned expression. Kidd, a face not often speechless, couldn't believe her eyes, to use her phrase.

As my face registered on their memory, I prepared for the endless waves of questions and queries I would face over the next week or so. Then a face I didn't recognise, a hooded figure. Ah Tabai, it emerged his name was. It transpired I might have a few questions for them to answer as I learnt of the secret society they had embroiled themselves in.

"We all thought you were dead, mate." Thatch spoke looking apishly confused and sipping at his rum.

"I survived." I said, stating the obvious and reliving the events of that night.

I was scheduled to leave New Providence on 12th June 1714. We had been gearing up for that night for nigh on three months, and, although there were hints of treachery, no one could ever have predicted one of those deckhands would have been sold so easily. I still don't know who ordered the brig be 'blown to smithereens' as Anne put it, but maybe I could figure out who had if I stayed in the West Indies. But yes, I found barrels of gunpowder in the hold. By then it was too late and I can remember the look on that sailors face as he lit the fuse.

I must've had just seconds to get off the brig and swing onto The Sapphire which was sailing in pursuit, under the command of an old friend. Who was also in on it. So yes, I had to dispatch dear Danny Three-Balls to the bowels of hell, not a clue to what had turned him against me. I'd rather not go into the details of his nickname if it's all the same to you. My little sloop wasn't exempt from the rubble and exploding planks of wood flying this way and that, and The Sapphire took a fair share of damage, having decayed since that night.

Looking up from my tankard, I saw that young rookie approaching, as though he bore important news for this Ah Tabai. The same young rookie who assisted me in the liberation of The Sapphire four years earlier. I then turned to Anne, who suggested we stay in this derelict manor these Assassins called their base of operations. So we did, for quite some time, in fact. Being taught the philosophy and structure of the Assassin Order. Oddly, I found I could relate to these assassins, in some way. I still couldn't fathom why Anne hid her knowledge of this reclusive faction from me though. At least, back then I was not so receptive to the truth. And, at first glance, that's all I thought they were. A clan of reclusive old men preaching the fading word of freedom and liberty. Much like Edward Kenway had, apparently. Who I became good friends with, indeed reunited with the rest of my good friends I lost contact with after the unfortunate night of 12th June 1714.

We remained on the Island for five months, until I was finally called to serve the assassins. Fortunately, my departure coincided with the unanticipated return of Calico Jack. Begging for Anne's hand in marriage. Even I hadn't proposed and we had been in a relationship for six months. He was also quite irritated at losing his hefty fortune of 200 guineas, but he seemed to have gotten over that a bit. So, t'was July when Me, Thatch and Anne set off for Nassau.

We sailed on The Sapphire, to give her some action, seeing as though the other ships had been sailing in and out of Great Inagua over the past five months while we'd been cooped up on the island. Joe had also been quite puzzled about our presence on the island, until we mustered up enough confidence in him to entrust him with the secret of The Assassins.

The seas were choppy around now and the voyage over to Nassau would be an uneasy one. Joe took the helm for this particular crossing and, despite the rocky waters, he managed to get us there in one piece. Hornigold met us at the jetty, Vane by his side.

"At ease, fellas." Benjamin said, gesturing to us. Charles Vane helped Anne off the gangplank with a gentlemanly hand. I walked down, following Thatch who was smoking a silver pipe.

"So, we're close to finding this elusive Sage then?" Edward Thatch said, nursing his pipe.

"Yes, it would appear so." Hornigold said, a charismatic quiver in his voice. My black hair was sweating in the beams of the sun, something it never usually did. Maybe it was a premonitory warning of things to come. Looking over to the other jetty, I could see a man, a Templar, (his ring giving him away) pointing his musket at us. Without a second thought, a threw myself in front of everyone, shouting and indicating the shooter. Big Toby, as I now called him, had his eyes trained on the man since we left the Sapphire, thankfully and the Templar spy was sent plummeting into the chilly depths of the ocean by Toby's pistol bullet.

The other three men had their pistols primed for the hitman, unaware he had already been disposed of by Big Toby. Thatch sheathed his pistol and applauded Toby, having left his pipe between his lips, before returning to holding the pipe with his right hand. "We'll have to be extra careful from here on in." Charles Vane said, sounding cautious.

We paced along the jetty, into the streets, discussing our course of action, though Vane and I kept silent for the majority of the rendezvous through Nassau. Until finally, we made it to a sight for thirsty eyes. The Old Avery! I felt like running up to it and hugging Elsie, the old barkeep. _If these walls could talk_, I mused, thinking of the characters who had frequented this watering hole. Alexander Dalzeel, Black Caesar, Nathaniel North. Among the other folk who were there from the start. In the early days. 1710 saw me come onto the scene and join them. I'd like to say I had my fair share of infamy. Specialising in robbing schooners off the coast of Jamaica. That was me.

Shaking the pleasant reminiscence from my head I focused on the current task, holding the conversation of where the Sage would be located. "We're in the process of allocating resources to actually find The Sage." Hornigold put in, his posh accent speaking volumes.

I always felt expected to like Benjamin Hornigold, yet I always found him too stuck-up and snobby to actually appreciate his company. He was probably a decent fella, but I didn't have time to get to know him. We continued on and found the Old Avery relatively empty. Empty or full, the Avery was a nice place to enjoy though, and we sat on a five-seat round table, planning where to buy or steal these resources from. "There's a man-of-war not far from here, s'posed to be brimming with all sorts of treasures and weapons. Kept in a shipyard somewhere on Nassau." Charles Vane commented. He, on the other hand, was a man to respect. A strategist and reminded me of myself in several aspects. That very comment proved he was a man in the know, able to sort out information from various sources.

"Well then, looks like we're off to find that shipyard then, don't it?" Anne said, rhetorically, and downing a flagon of mead.


	6. Romance Isn't Dead

Corsair

Romance Isn't Dead

18th August, 1717

St Lucia

A year on from my last entry, I was now on Assassin business in St Lucia, safeguarding our interests there. Anne still at my side, and if I may say so myself, we made quite the pair, and we had also managed to make a successful relationship from our past year has a couple. And yet I still had no intention of marrying her. Though, as my thirtieth birthday loomed ever closer, maybe my horizons would broaden and I may become more open to the concept of marriage again.

My first wife was an impossible woman to live with and what possessed me to ever go down on one knee had thankfully vanished. I suppose that was youth, naïveté or something along those lines. Governor Woodes Rogers was piling pressure on Nassau day by day, our informants telling us his secretaries were drawing up drafts of legislation and pardons. Warrants of executions, too. Hornigold seemed to be leaning toward accepting a pardon, while Vane would've stuck it out to the end. I knew that much.

'James Kidd' seemed to be getting on with her usual life and enjoyed keeping the Templars at bay. Literally, sometimes. Anne was very pally with Mary Read but I didn't mind, I was trusted enough to keep her gender secret, even though it remained presumed by the rest of the order that she was a man. Thatch was getting broody in his old age and wanted a let-up from the game. While Edward strove for the Observatory, and I did whatever I was told, like a loyal little lapdog, as long as Anne came with me.

We quenched our thirst at the Randy's Folly In , and I was getting suspiciously concerned that Randy might be getting himself involved in some dangerous exploits if my last encounter with a schooner going by the same name as this inn was to be related with each other. I stared out to the rest of the small town of Belmont. A picturesque wee thing it was. Then a slam hit the table and I looked up to the face of our lovely travelling companion. Oh yes, I'd left out the infamous Calico Jack, hadn't I? Once a close friend, now I couldn't stand the sight of him.

But, on orders from Ah Tabai, we had to tolerate him on our trips. He was, how our mentor put it 'a vital and essential tool'. A tool alright but I'm not sure he was essential or vital when he spent half his time either smashed or in bed with prostitutes. A tool. That brought to mind an old friend from the Roscommon days. Paddy O'Toole, became a sailor of sorts too.

I sipped my rum, biting my lip as we stared at each other. Me and Rackham. Forgetting about him, I looked out toward the beautiful scenery again, envisioning myself living in a little village like that one day. Nice and settled. Anne and I raising several children together. A calming thought if ever there was one. Then, all of a sudden, four men kicked down the door of the inn and hammered three bullets into the barkeep. Without even stopping for thought I rushed over to where Anne was en route back to our table. I sprinted forward and leapt, throwing us onto the floor, sheltering Anne.

Drawing my flintlock, I primed the gun ready to discharge a bullet into the first man's skull. Firing, the first intruder fell to his knees, his neck gaping, blood gushing from his throat. I reloaded and aimed for the second and missed, the crafty bugger dodging out of its way. Observing their uniform I noticed the Templar livery embroidered onto the fabric of their pauldrons. The air cracked with my flintlocks report and the second man fell to the floor eyes wide at the hole in his forehead. The third ran and jumped onto Jack Rackham's head, pulling at his dreadlocks.

As much as I disliked the man and the amusement of watching his hair being pulled in every direction, Ah Tabai would skin my hide for letting him die on purpose. Anne had now pulled herself to her feet and the fourth Templar was taken care of by her musket. I shot my flintlock and watched the life drain from the face of the third attacker's face. Rackham was now in my debt, which was a comfortable place I liked him in. It suited him, grovelling and begging like a baby. He did that enough already but it brought a smile to my face to watch him go the extra mile. To see him squirm.

Anne tended to the dismayed customers of Randy's Folly Inn, while Jack vainly adjusted his hair and I disposed of the bodies. The barkeep must've been a few years younger than me. "Rest in peace." I said, carrying her outside to a horse. We'd have to take her to an undertaker on the way back to the docks. I turned to see the assembled corpses of the Templar officers. "God have mercy on your soul." I remarked grimly. _If the devil hasn't already got yer_, I thought.

We'd have to secure the inn that night and call some of the crew round to stand guard while we slept during the night. Big Toby should be up for that. He liked acting security guard. Almost as much as he liked being a macho muscle-head. I consulted Toby on the matter when we returned to The Sapphire. "I'd love to guard the place for the night." He said, grinning and setting off for the inn immediately.

The two of us decided to have a romantic meal that night. Sophisticated classy dining. Two glasses of Chianti were lain on the table, one either side of it. Rotini pasta for dinner with a side of steak. The food was fantastic and we had no Jack Rackham or anybody else to disturb us for that matter.

We made our way to the bedroom quarters, bellies full, loins stirring. Anne was wearing her red, satin dressing gown, with her delicious body underneath. I wore my assassins garb. Slowly, we embraced and then our embrace developed into a kiss, before evolving into the delicate removal of clothing and eventually gentle lovemaking.

My smooth yet erect member ploughed into her velvety centre, a wince of joy leaving both our mouthes. Back and forth, each time using more and more power, force and speed to entice each other further. I kept a steady rhythm, a slow yet pleasant pace. This was something we hadn't done before. Well, not like this at least. Not like refined people of the world. We usually just went at it like animals. I gave my feral virility a rest tonight though, letting the candlelight mood take us.

Finally a conclusion had been reached and I climaxed, paving the way for her own fluids to drip from her. Groans and moans of delight came from our bedroom and although we made a bit of noise I'm confident no one heard us in any great part. That night was good, healthy, cleansing for the soul and I felt quite content and composed in my thinking and actions for the next few days. As did Anne, who seemed very calm for the feisty Irishwoman she claimed to be.


	7. O To Be In Ireland

Corsair

O To Be In Ireland

Port Royal, Jamaica

August 26th, 1717

Back to the debaucherous streets of Jamaica then. We moored The Sapphire yesterday. I had a meeting with Thatch. That should be enjoyable. Walking down the gangplank, I looked over to see Jack ripping off an old man. Selling buckets? Yes, he had now taken up the art of mercantile, a path not often trod by pirates and even less so in Assassins. But then again, Rackham had never been truly recognized as an assassin. More of a useful accessory the Assassins used whenever they needed goods smuggled or comsumables imported.

Anne walked off into the nearest tavern. Ye Olde Governor's Arms. That sounded ominous. I believed I was to meet Edward at a tavern in the very centre of the city. The Puking Butcher, it was called, but I looked at my letter again to certify it. Yes, it was indeed The Puking Butcher I was to visit to engage in this meeting with Thatch. Something about an assignment. Don't know why he couldn't just leave it in the letter. Or sent a carrier pigeon. Maybe the West Indies life had rubbed off on the old crew over the past seven years. God knows it hadn't had much of an effect on me, and I'd been back a year.

Moving deeper into the city, I become more and more wary, increasingly paranoid. I drew my cutlass when a young child I mistook for a young thief passed by me, suspiciously rubbing against me as he passed. Bless him though, he must've been terrified, the crowd was massive but there wasn't any particular congestion, so, in hindsight I had no real cause for concern. I started to see some alehouses appear around me, focusing on The Puking Butcher. No, that hadn't came into sight yet. Just a few words scrawled across the plaques in various languages.

Ha! I nailed it. The keen eye never failed and I spied The Puking Butcher Public House, and strolled over to see a compact room full of patrons and pirates. Stede Bonnet was in town, meaning this must've been a flashy place. I saw 'The Gentleman Pirate' drinking with three other men, all dressed in finery and regalia. Jewels adorning their body and clothes. They must have been new to Jamaica, or they'd have known better than to go prancing around like emperors.

Blackbeard himself was tucked away nicely in a corner, drinking away his favorite liquid: rum. I joined him and he filled me in on the details. "There's a fleet o' Templar Galleons, leaving the docks at Green Bay, Southwest of Kingston." He said, slurping his rum along the way.

"When are they leaving?" I asked, helping myself to my own tankard of rum but not expecting to stay and finish it.

"Tomorrow. Best get there in advance." He said, sounding tired and beaten. I heard more and more of his soon departure from life on the high seas. I understood he was getting restless, approaching fifty and having spent the last ten years gathering the means for a wealthy life yet finding you've nought but piss and pewter to show for it. That must've been annoying.

I stood up and made for the exit, Edward bidding me farewell. I gestured my goodbyes as I left the tavern. Heading for Ye Olde Governor's Arms to pick up Anne. I entered the saloon and scanned the room for Anne. Pirates, as far as the eye could see. A few women, but not Anne. I went up to the bar and enquired about Anne. The room seemed strangely quiet for a pirate tavern. Solemn, almost.

"Have you seen an Irishwoman? Red hair, goes by the name Anne." I asked, waiting for the barmaid to finish cleaning the tankards.

"Aye. Girl can take her ale? Yeah, some of the governors men came down here to make the routine rounds. I swear Heywood will have me out of business." She told, a Scottish accent protruding from her tone. I feared the worst as I asked another question.

"Where did they take them?" I queried, praying she would have an accurate answer.

"Probably back to the fort. Fort Charles." She informed me. I exhaled. At least I had a location. Now to race to the fort, rescue Anne and liberate the other prisoners. I flew out of the alehouse in a rush, sprinting toward the prison. If they had _dared _touch her they would pay. I must have looked quite the spectacle, a mysterious stranger running hither and yon.

I dived and ducked out of the way of several obstacles. At last, it came into view. I'd have to find a way in though. It was my lucky day and a slanted ramp just outside the fort gave me enough height to scale the walls. I warped up the ramp and threw myself into the air, landing in the courtyard with a thud. There were about six soldiers, alerted to the sound of me colliding with the ground. I rolled over and drew my cutlass, leaping into action and shooting the first one to turn and put a name to my face.

The first soldier fell back and faded. Another was approaching me at a rapid speed, wielding a steel axe. I waited for a second, maybe two before letting him get close, swinging out of the axe's way and stabbing the second man in the back with my cutlass. I drove the sword through, the third lookout hard on my heels. Abandoning the cutlass for now, I reloaded the flintlock in lightening speed, embedding a bullet in his eye and watching his eyeball hang out on a thread of tendon.

A fourth sentry, wearing an infuriated look, set himself upon me, the fifth preparing to fire his musket at me. The frenzied fourth guard was easy to manipulate, I grabbed him by the arm and used his head as a shield. Blood sprayed across my shoulder as the berserk guardsman fell to the dusty sand. The last two exchanged worried glances, the fifth made a desperate attempt to reload in time to shoot me down. He failed, making the schoolboy error of panicking. I smacked him across the temple with my pistol, bringing him down to the floor. The last remaining guard stared at his fading friend, frantically wondering what to do. "Go." I said, indicating the gate.

I could hear the voices of Anne and a few others. That relieved me. "Seth! Seth! Look behind you!" Anne shrieked. I turned to face the now recovered guard I'd grounded just a few seconds before. I walked backward, distancing myself away from the two of them, allowing me some time to reload and retrieve my cutlass. The cutlass would have to wait. I reloaded and fired at the panicking guards stomach, his insides pouring onto the ground, cushioning his fall. He let out one last groan before dying. The concussioned guard came over, waving his sword uncontrollably.

I dug my foot in the dead guard who had my cutlass firmly stuck in his back. I yanked it out and slashed the final surviving guard across the throat. He stumbled back and caressed his neck as he passed from this world. I searched the jailor's corpse and found the key to the stocks in which Anne was imprisoned. I released my lover before letting the other undesirables loose.

"Did they hurt you?" I asked, as she felt her hands went to her wrists to check they were still in functioning condition.

"No. It'll take more than a roughing-up to hurt me." She remarked, trying to hide the pain she so obviously felt. I thought about pushing the matter, but let it rest for the sake of avoiding an argument. Now, we'd have to make haste to Green Bay, to catch the Templar fleet.

Boarding The Sapphire, I made my way to the quarterdeck and gave a command to Joe. "Set course to Green Bay."

"Aye." He said, taking the helm and sailing Southwest.

I decided to head to my quarters and get some rest before we disembarked in Green Bay. I did love to job, but some days I yearned for the comforts of home.


	8. Union

Corsair

Union

Autumn of 1717

Hispaniola

"Then I henceforth declare ye, Man and Wife." The clergymen cried in joy, as Anne and I embraced under the florally decorated archway atop the small island. The crowd burst into an uproar as we shared a passionate kiss, launching tons of confetti onto us. I couldn't help myself; a grin materialised on my lips as I gazed around the congregation of pirates and saw Jack Rackham nursing a wounded pride. He'd been forced to come as a guest of Charles Vane. Vane seemed a lonely and pathetic man nowadays. Our raid on Green Bay had been successful by the way, pulled it off in time for supper. Thankfully we dined on the food of our captives who had plentiful supplies to sate the appetite of our collective band.

Anne was clad in a gleaming white gown that clung to her shoulders and flowed down to her toes. A large bottle of ale was firmly lodged in Kenway's mouth while Thatch was raising his tankard in celebration. The remote scenery made for a charming effect. Our reception was held in the hall, containing ample room and drink for our thirsty buccaneer comrades. We settled into our chairs on the top table. This priest chap, Igor had insisted we give a speech. I prepared a small few sentences about mine and Anne's time together since I knew no one in that hall would appreciate a long boring lecture on our love for each other.

As for my new wife, I hadn't a clue what she was going to say, I didnt want to pry too deep. We'd spent a lot of money on this ceremony, around 2,000 Reales altogether. And I wasn't about to let the British or anyone else invade our special day. So we hired the closed-off old holy man to conduct the union. I didn't dare to think what God would grant his blessing to two corrupted souls such as ourselves. Religion had never really been my forte and I intended to keep it that way. Sure, nuns and priests were brought in to tutor me by my parents but I refused to listen. Blocked it out.

"Many of you know that Anne and Myself were brought together as children. Since then, we had met regularly and I knew from the second I clapped eyes on her she was my true love." I declared, the men of the congregation sniggering in utter amusement at my words, though Mary Read gave a wry smile as she flashed a surreptitious wink at me and Anne.

I smiled back in her direction, but spread my expression out amongst the crammed throng of people bundled inside the hall. Wrapping up my speech, it was Anne's turn. She stayed just two minutes talking about our troubled life on the high seas, ending with a happy look about her. As though she had somehow been through a dark and painful nightmare, relived to be through the worst part of it.

The priest approached as the merriment and celebration resumed, clenching so fist as an indication for us to dig deeper into our pockets.

"Charges to cover the cost of damage done by your unruly friend, Mr. Thatch." He beamed, scooping up the money and pointing over to where Edward had just cracked part of his wooden table. I let out a quiet growl of my frustration, clenching my fist to vent my fury. I'd be having stiff words with Thatch about his anger later. For now though, I was happy to overlook it, not letting it ruin my wedding day.

Hours pased and we danced, revelled and drank the night away, the man of the cloth slipping away into his study as he became more and more uneasy and uncomfortable in our company. Kegs of rum didn't last two minutes in that hall. So we had booked for twenty kegs and brought five of our own. By tomorrow no one would barely be able to recall the events of our wedding. Which saddened me quite a bit when I thought on it.

Until they sobered up at least. Making merry, the air was filled with delight and joy. And as sun set and darkness loomed on the tiny patch of white sand, there was an atmosphere I'd rarely experienced. The feeling, the exhilaration of no worries, no cares. T'was a free life we led. As pirates. Men and women of the seas, the ocean our only calling in life. Within minutes though, that vibe had dissipated into concern. Frantically, Father Igor was searching for something, rifling through his desk as I came to his office to enquire about details of our last stage of payment.

The glass panes of the windows were shattered, men in red burst into the hall carrying alarming muskets and wheel-locks in hand. Inebriated I was, but I dug deep into my frockcoat pockets and extracted something I swore I would avoid using that day: the trusty flintlock. Thatch was prepared for them thankfully and had dispatched two of their number by the time if had chance to draw my cutlass.

I fired, the target, his stomach gaping as he fell slowly to his knees, writhing in the throes of death. Screwing my eyes tightly shut, I weaved my blade through the neck of a nearby officer who had just appeared next to me. "Anne!" I screamed over to my bride, who searched her peticoats for her own weapon. Knowing she would be taken in seconds if I didn't act fast enough, I launched her over a pistol. I didn't mind. She put it to good use. Killing three soldiers seemingly instantaneously.

Meanwhile, James Kidd struggled to keep her hair tied in the usual style her companions were accustomed to seeing her in as she fended off half a dozen regulars, protectively flinging herself in front of a snoozing Jack Rackham. Kenway kept his curtana close at hand, as I produced my own scimitar from its sheath and slipped it into the gut of a somewhat middle-aged Brit who made the mistake of crossing the Assassins.

The battle was heated, lasting four minutes before all pirate-hunters were dead and the crook of a priest was fleeing. He swung open the door, my companions checking the hall around them to confirm none of our number was injured, while I gave chase to the fraud. Realistically, he wasn't going far in the flowing robes he was clad in. So the pursuit concluded in seconds, with me tackling him to the sand -sheeted ground.

"Tell me, swindler; are you even a real priest?" I queried, my hidden blade placed at his wrinkled throat.

"I took my vows, yes. But God cannot help all who fall on hard times..." He sighed sadly, wanting me to give sympathy. I engaged the blade, watching the life drain from his catatonic, wide eyes. Was this what I had become? Yes. And a stint in hell was all that awaited me in the afterlife. In a way, I was proud to call myself a pillaging, plundering demonic buccaneer. It fulfilled me. Piracy was my true calling in life.

Returning to the hall, I expressed a grim look to confirm their thoughts. "He lies dead." I spoke solemnly, quietly. Anne looked disappointed in me for killing the defenseless preacher. They all did. Until, my old mate, Jack Rackham distracted their attention.

"What? Who? Who... who lies dead?" He asked, awaking from his drink-induced nap confused. Half-grins formed on their faces, amused by the lack of respect from the drunkard.


	9. Autumnal Winds

Autumnal Winds

26th October 1717

"I told you it was three miles due west!" Anne exclaimed, facing me.

"And I told _you_ the quickest, safest way to Charlotte is a mile East avoiding the privateers and storms..." I retorted.

"Fine. But if you won't listen to your quartermaster, listen to your wife." She replied, sighing and throwing her hands in the air, frustrated by the argument.

"Just because we're married doesn't empower you with the ability to nag me."

"Haha, well I don't know about that!" I heard a bellow from across the waters. It was Thatch. He was in his fancy new frigate, The Queen Anne's Revenge.

"Thatch!" I roared over to him "I didn't see you there." I added, turning to give Anne a cheekily stern expression.

"Are you going to this blasted meeting of Kenway's?" He queried us.

"Aye. We were just discussing the best route to Charlotte. What do you suggest?" I called over to him.

"Just stick with us and we'll be there in no time." He nursed his pipe, letting out a raucous cackle. Anne fixed me a disapproving glare as I returned to the helm. We followed his broad ship and within hours we'd arrived at the rendezvous point unscathed.

"You all remember the observatory I spoke of? The one Torres planned to steal for himself?" Edward Kenway asked the crowd gathered around a small wooden table, citing waves of irritation at his persistent obsession with the Observatory. "Alright, alright!" Kenway hushed the deckhands and pirates down. "I have a plan to locate the Sage." He began. "First, we lure the Templars out by destroying their fleets,"

Thatch was on the brink of interrupting his grand pitch before Kenway raised a hand to halt him. "once we've got their attention we take some hostages and hoard them until their ready to cough up some info." He added.

"There's just a slight problem with that." Thatch said at last, looking like he was about to burst if he had to contain his objection any longer.

"What's wrong?" Kenway asked, bracing himself for a long speech on how flawed his strategy was.

"The Templars couldn't give a damn about their own!" Edward Thatch exclaimed, his staunch supporters muttering their approval to themselves. "Their parasites, the lot of 'em!" Blackbeard continued on his rant. "We'd need some pretty senior officers to attract their attention." He lowered his voice and sounded more interested this time.

"We'll find a way." Kenway smirked.

Needless to say, his plan fell apart under the heavy weight of criticism from his crew and Charles Vane. "I've a wife and two lads back home who need me!" A deckhand shouted after his captain.

"Aye. And me own partner be with our child resting in her." A younger bellowed.

"Yer see Kenway? These are men's lives. Our men. We can't take the risk. It's not practical." Vane gazed deep into Edward Kenway's eyes as he spoke.

"What do the others think?" I consulted them, sticking my neck out after noting the abscence of Mary Read in her boyish get-up and Benjamin Hornigold. "And why do we not gather on Nassau?" I added.

Sighing, Thatch prepared himself to explain his answers. "Kidd's gone off on her never ending quest to rid the West Indies of slavers. God knows where Ben's got himself off to," he paused for a second, glancing across the wooden table from me, to Kenway to Vane "as for Nassau, Methinks ol' Georgie's got the place fixed with a few watches. We need to be careful." He responded cryptically.

"If were agreed my plan was a complete failure, then we'll have to think of something else." Kenway exhaled heavily as he concentrated.

"How about if we sent in a diversion?" Anne suggested, smiling lightly with her idea.

"Like?" Kenway raised his head to hear her.

"Like getting a few schooners together." She rejoined quickly. Thatch made a gesture to coax more of her cryptic idea out of her. "Oh alright! We sail in say, six schooners near Havana." She looked around to see if she had managed to hold their attention. Heads nodded and she continued: "Then, we slip in a couple of frigates, brigs etcetera and steal the Sage's location while their busy fendin' off the schooners." She triumphantly slapped her fist on the map, her index finger pointed at Cuba on the global map.

"Well, I'm likin' the sound o' that!" Rackham exclaimed, leaning in flirtatiously. In response, Anne fixed him a lascivious grin to feed his fools' ambition.

"Where are we gonna get six schooners?" Vane asked, skeptical of her plan.

"I'll get them." I volunteered.

"No. Take half each." Edward Kenway commanded. "Meet back here in a week, all of us. And bring Kidd and Hornigold." He added decisively, pulling up his hood and leaving straight away.

"That it? We've travelled from a little fishing trip in Mauritius all the way to the goddamned West fucking Indies for all of ten minutes chatting about Shite!?" Vane screamed, his temper uncontrollable as Calico Jack tried to calm his companion.

"Vane! Cool yourself down with a keg." Thatch demanded, walking to the door and kicking over a crate of ale to Vane.

After Charles' dismaying fit of rage, we departed with the rest of them, K-way as I liked to call him heading eastwards while the crew chose The Sapphire best make for the south. "All hands aft, boys! We'll need a full sail on this one!" Anne yelled down to the deck. Most of the men aboard seemed to respect. Although there was the occasional unpleasant business of having to castrate a few men the past year for getting too friendly.

There was a strong wind in the air, our sails nicely on course for the southern regions of the ocean. A tangible taste of sea-salt in the atmosphere. Morale was high among the crewmen, they sang uplifting sea-shanties of home and afar. The more seasoned of them were reflecting on their journeys across the seas. We spent hours in harmonious peace until Danny, a lad of not even twenty ran up to the wheel to tell me something vitally important.

"Cap'n! Cap'n Sir! Come quickly, have a look at this here gunboat." He panted frantically, proffering his own spyglass. I took his item and peered through it to see a small two-mast gunboat lurking, unaware of its imminent sinking.

"You'll be rewarded for this, lad." I assured him as I gestured to Anne to give the orders. A thin smile formed on his lips as he scurried down the deck to perform his service.

"Ready the mortar shot! We've got a gunboat to loot!" Anne screeched down to the deck as she had a glance at our prize. "That be no schooner." She remarked, sounding irritated.

"Cheer up! We'll find one soon." I replied, smiling. She seemed less than impressed.

"I just think its a waste of time and resources." She said, taking leave of the spyglass.

"We'll need its supplies to see us through the week." I argued, trying to make her feel a bit better about taking the prize. She didn't respond, but stood there venting her annoyance through muffled mutters.

Ignoring her, I turned The Sapphire, the starboard cannons primed for the little gunboat. "Fire!" I shrieked down to the lads who obeyed the orders. The air roared as our cannon fire sent the enemy ship plummeting to the depths of the sea. Gripping the wheel, I swerved in, five crewmen jumping overboard to loot the crates on the gunboat's deck. "Hurry!" I called down to them as they threw the boxes aboard from the fast-sinking ship.

"Now there's a worthwhile prize!" Anne yelled, indicating a well fortified schooner in the distance.

"Alright, we'll take that next." I glanced at her, her smirk encouraging me. "Swing in, kill the crew and make off with as little damage to her as possible, okay?" I added, running the plan by my quartermaster.

"Aye, quick and clean like?" I nodded, and she gave another order. "Rig the masts lads! We're takin' that there schooner!" She boomed, pointing out the target.

I steered the wheel, facing our quarry head on. But even then I felt it. An altercation in the winds. Changes. Once a nice breeze, now a rough torrent. Grey murky fog seeped into the sky, poisoning the picturesque cobalt above our hats. All of a sudden, heavy rain began to pound down upon us, bolts and flashes of lighting tearing through the schooner we meant to claim as our own.

"Ah! Damn you!" I cursed at the sky.

"Storm captain! Storm!" A face from below decks screamed up to the poop-deck on which myself and Anne stood.

"Well done, Alan!" Anne shouted back at him sarcastically.

"This is shite weather for Autumn!" I called over to Anne.

"Aye. Never seen the likes in October!" She agreed, nodding her head.

Forcing the Sapphire through the harsh winds, I was determined to take the schooner. But I was cautious not to let my determination lead to the death of me and my crew. "No! This isn't worth dying for!" A deckhand screeched as he plunged overboard. His best friend leaned over the portside to reach for his companion, to no avail. He collapsed to the deck in sobs, drying his eyes as another of his acquaintances pulled him to his feet.

"Poor sods." Big Toby remarked, his arms folded. He'd been silent for the voyage, but now he spoke. I turned round to see him, stoney-faced and lacking all interest of the situation. Spurring my sloop on, we continued on to our objective. Restrictive winds further struck us, blowing us over, the Sapphire tilting slightly as the crew fought against the elements to save the ship.

In an instant my trusty little vessel I'd had these past six years was upturned on the high seas, water flushing onto it as myself, Anne and every other pirate onboard were flung off the Sapphire and thrown deep into the oceans. I kicked my way to the surface, seeing many an incapable swimmer sink to his untimely demise as I rose. "Anne!?" I screamed in sheer panic. Desperate to find my wife, I dived back down to the sea, a beautiful, flame-haired figure passing below me. My eyes widened as I realised it was Anne. Swimming faster than I ever imagined I could, I gripped her leather jacket and pulled her up.

Seconds later, she opened her eyes and my heart skipped a beat in relief. Again we resurfaced to talk. "Where's the crew?" She asked me, to which I answered:

"Halfway to the ocean floor." Indicating the number of ill-prepared bodies drifting below the crumbling shipwreck. "No! Sapphire!" I cried as I saw my life's work here in the West Indies be engulfed by the waves. Big Toby popped his head up. A few others managed to float but we lost a great number of our crew that day...


	10. A Man Marooned

Corsair

A Man Marooned

9th December 1717

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_**A/N: THE FINALE OF CORSAIR. THIS CHAPTER HAS SOME CRYPTIC MESSAGES IN IT, SO YOU'LL HAVE TO READ BETWEEN THE LINES AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY! I'LL START WRITING THE SEQUEL TO CORSAIR IN THE NEW YEAR.**_

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"Anne! Anne!" I cried, looking into the glass bottle. It had been four days. Four days I'd been on this godforsaken islet with naught but piss for rum and a rotting bullet in a rusting pistol. Four fucking days! No signs of any help coming. "Christ sake!" I exclaimed. I thought people cared about me. I was wrong to think the assassins would come dashing to my aid. A bloody fool. I bet they were soaking up the good life back in Nassau. While I was on this heap of sandy rock.

Nothing but merchants had passed through. Merchants who gave a wide berth to a deranged looking figure standing on an island clutching a pistol. "Where are you Anne?!"I shrieked, throwing my head against the rock in frustration. My shaggy black hair had now gone greasy and thick with time. I hadn't seen my 'wife' since the day we were separated when on board that fishing sloop. It was Jack. He'd come to collect her from her debaucherous lifestyle she'd acquired a taste for when he left New Providence. Needless to say, he cast me off and bade I kill myself. I'd like to think I was going strong in my refusal to die.

Now in the bedraggled, scruffy rags he demanded I wear, it was a far cry from the luxurious comforts of Nassau. No. No, I wasn't giving up. "I've not spent seven years cultivating me fortune to have it all ruined now!" I said, picking myself up and dusting off the dirt that had accumulated over the past few days. There was a cluster of coconuts atop a palm tree, right in front of me. Coconuts I'd not yet seen. Gathering my balance, and making sure I wouldn't be disorientated, I made a running sprint for the tree.

I lurched up the curved tree and gripped the bunch of coconuts, tearing them free with my bare hands. "Aha!" I said, basking in my triumph. Clenching my fist, I hammered the coconuts open and dribbled the contents over my lips. "Mmm!" I muttered out of pure exhilaration from the taste. I set two aside, formulating a plan in my head. Repeating the same technique I'd used to extract the food, I tore off a branch of long, stretching palm leaves.

Then came the next step. The trickier step in which I'd need to find a way to ignite the leaves to make a beacon. Assembling the tall, thin leaves, I laid the foundations for the beacon. Nearby, scattered stones were strewn about the small islet. Picking one up, I saw, not too distant, a small collection of wooden planks floating about the cool, calm sea. Throwing off the grime-covered shirt, I dipped into the water and gradually began to wade through, eventually swimming. I neared the planks and took as many as my hands would hold.

Returning to shore, I chopped the brittle wood into thin pieces, before combining stone and wood, rubbing them together until at last, sparks flew and fire burned. Taking care not to keep the burning items in my hands too long, I placed them onto the makeshift beacon I hoped would signal a kind bypasser to stop and help me. One minute, two minutes. Five minutes passed, the blaze raged on. Ten minutes, twenty minutes turned into half an hour, still no indication of help. All hope had almost disintegrated after an hour.

Kicking the remainder of the stones away in anger, I turned to curse the terrible beacon. Until, on the horizon, a ship with sails, blacker than a nightmare and thrice as frightful approached. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" I exclaimed, as I saw a flag, the flag of an unmistakable friend of mine. I was leaping across the dusty island with joy. The Devil-Stabbing-Heart was Blackbeard's infamously recognisable flag and I saw it flying high and proud. After some time had passed and The Queen Anne's Revenge approached, Thatch had identified me as the man standing on the island making gestures he would interpret knowing it was an Assassin.

"Lads! Bring him aboard!" He bellowed to the deckhands on the deck. Within minutes I was exhausted, all energy depleted from the arduous wading, and lacking nutrition for a period of four days, but I was aboard the poop-deck of Blackbeards flagship. "Get him in me quarters! Let him get some rest!" Thatch instructed his first mate, Israel Hands.

I felt light as a feather in the arms of a sailor who Hands had appointed to carry out the task. Next, I remember waking in Thatch's cabin. Feeling rested, warm and secure I hopped out of the four-poster bed and slipped on my silky, smooth nightgown. Opening the door, I saw Nassau Port, deckhands crawling up and down the masts to obey Thatch's fluctuating orders. We were readying to dock. A warm mist lingered in the air, a settling comforting mist. I felt as though I was coming home as I walked up to the poop-deck to address Thatch.

"Will Anne be here?" I queried him.

"Aye. We're hoping for a full house at the Avery. Good luck trying to wrest her from the arms of that sailor though." Thatch said, imparting a cryptic message.

The man o' war slipped into port and we disembarked. My first stop, above all else, was the Avery. Returning to the captains quarters, I selected one of Blackbeards unused outfits. Pulling on a pair of bronze trousers, a matching overcoat and an off-white undershirt, I left the vessel hell-bent on slitting Jack Bonny's throat.

"Oi! O'Hara!" I heard Thatch's voice summon me. Rolling my eyes in frustration and turning to face him I asked;

"What now Edward?"

"Don't act too hastily. Whatever you do."

"I'll try not to."

Walking down the jetty at a fast pace, I was careful not to let my anger cloud my senses, just as Thatch had cautioned me. My feet carried me quicker with each and every step that took me closer to the Old Avery. Already half way there, I could hear the raucous cackles and revelry radiating from the tavern. Among them a sweet, gentle laugh I knew belonged to Anne, my heart pounding in my chest as soon as I heard her. Going even faster and eventually breaking into a run, I dashed up the stairs to scan the multitudes of men and women clustered together in the area, my eyes peeled for the red haired beauty who had drove me on this quest to escape that infernal island.

From a distance I could hear her. But my eyes could not see her upon inspection. Were my ears deceiving me? Or was there another among the crowd who used the same laugh as her? Just as I was about to give up, I saw nestled between two timeworn faces, my Anne.

"Seth!" She cried, extending her arms to hug me.

"Listen, Seth, He left me here and said he was going on to Tortuga-" I interrupted her before she could continue.

"Then I'm off to Tortuga." I replied. "Will you come with me?" I asked her.

"No, I can't." She refused, a half-confused, half-disappointed expression on her face.

"Why not?" I asked, eager to no what reasons prevented her from travelling with me.

"Because this arrived yesterday." She said, handing me a letter bearing William Cormac's seal. I read through the shocking contents of the letter, discovering her father had since become acquainted with Governor Alexander Spotswood, threatening to triple my bounty if I continued my relationship with her. Concluding the read, I made a valid point.

"How does he know we're together?" I queried her.

"You remember our wedding day?"

"Aye. Who could forget?"

"That priest was me Daddy's henchman. Plus he's got eyes and ears all over the Carribean." She explained, astounding me with the extent of her father's influence. I knew he was a respected merchant but I didn't ever fathom his power would reach Nassau. Yet now it had. With more and more signs of the kings navy poised to take our republic, we were losing our grip on New Providence. Soon, we would be flushed from The Bahamas altogether. "This means we can't be together anymore, Seth." She whispered softly, touching my cheek. Tears filled her eyes, and mine too.

"Then I'll say goodbye." I remarked, wandering off from the Avery. Not knowing where I was going. I'm not sure. Unsure of what made me cry that day. Was it sadness? Because Anne and I could no longer be married? Or was it because my newfound liberation was so overwhelming I couldn't handle it?

I didn't know... All I knew was... I was still a Corsair...


End file.
